


The Promise (and the ones that followed after)

by too_old_for_fangirling_but_idc



Category: Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Tom Is A Sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_old_for_fangirling_but_idc/pseuds/too_old_for_fangirling_but_idc
Summary: Tom loves Christmas Season, whereas Chris is not quite that impressed.





	The Promise (and the ones that followed after)

“Come on. Please. Chris.” 

Chris had thought Tom would tire of trying to convince him some time over the day but the man next to him didn’t quit easily.  
Ever since the tenth of November he plagued Chris with the idea. And now, as he had come over from Australia only a few days ago, the Brit had sensed his chance and talked nearly nonstop. Of course he did it to provoke him, he knew that, but it annoyed him nevertheless. The clinginess, the little pleas, the lip thing he did when he tried to be seductive… Chris wished he would stop.

And yet he stood in the middle of Tom’s living room, watching the man decorate the ridiculously small Christmas tree. There was a smile plastered on Toms’ perfect lips while he rambled on about how a tree adorned with sparkling little balls had its origin in a myth and came up not till the 1890s and how absolutely wonderful it would be to go buy new decorations on a Christmas market just nearby.

For whatever reason Tom was that overly enthralled with the whole Christmas thing, Chris felt he would never be able to understand. Of course, sometimes they had snow in London at that time of the year. But that was only when the weather literally killed Britain with kindness. Most of the time it kept raining, and sometimes even the always good-humoured Tom would complain about the wet weather. However, as he had personally told Chris a few hundred times two or three weeks ago, there had been snow for two days, straight up. Yep, two days. Chris had been impressed.

“Chris, you promised. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” He was close to pouting now, Chris could tell by the way his voice dropped a little bit and the enthusiasm slowly died away. Slowly Chris shifted from his present position, grabbed Tom by his waist and pulled him close for a soft hug.

“I’m sorry. You know how much I don’t like such places.”

With a slap on Chris’ fingers the Brit pulled free and continued arranging the chain of lights to his likings. 

“And you know very well how much I detest people who don’t keep up to their promises. Deliberately.”

“Listen, Tom….” Chris let out a frustrated sigh. “I somehow hoped you would give up trying, I’m sorry.”

“What a lovely boyfriend I have.” Poignant sarcasm made Toms voice more gravelly, but at the same time let it sound more on edge as usual.

“You’re angry.”

“Of course I am! What do you expect from me, other than to get angry if I constantly have to remind you of the promises you made yourself!”

Damn, definitely he screwed it up now. Tom’s complete charisma had changed in the mere blink of an eye. His shoulders were lightly hunched, his hands defiantly clawed into the hems of his favourite cardigan. He had turned his face away from Chris, but he could feel Tom’s brows knit together in resentment, nevertheless.

“I’m sorry…” Carefully, long fingers slid back around Tom’s waist, strong hands holding his narrow hips in a tight grip, smooth kisses placed on pale skin where the collar of the grey long sleeve shirt was just over.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathed in the other’s ear in a hoarse voice. “Please don’t be mad at me anymore. I’m so sorry, really. I’ll go there with you, I promise. And you know I keep my promises.” A delicate kiss placed on the sensitive spot just below the earlobe.

“Hemsworth.” Still angry Tom snorted with rage and let out a low growl in the back of his throat as he tried to pull himself free of Chris’ grip. It didn’t happen often that Chris witnessed Tom being that angry. In the seven years he already knew Tom, if the truth were told, it had happened exactly twice. The first time because of a family event that Tom had never talked about afterwards. And the second time after the separation from Taylor. Although that hadn’t even been anger, but rather sadness.

“If you want to keep your damn promises then do it! But don’t act as if you don’t want to. If that’s really the case, don’t make any at all. It’s discourteous and ignorant. And it annoys me.” He was pouting by now, tugging at Chris’ fingers but unable to disengage himself from them.

“C’mon, I mean it. Shall I apologize on my knees in front of you? Buy all Christmas decoration all around the world for you?”

There it was. A faint blush on Tom’s cheeks Chris noticed out of the corner of his eyes. It felt right.

“I would do that for you, you know.” He sensed Tom relaxing a bit in his arms, the tightness easing off his thin shoulders, the ineffective struggling becoming a bit watered-down.

“Fulfil your promise then.” Leaning back a little bit, Tom watched the blinking lights on the fir tree. With the outsides getting darker already Chris could see every structure of his delicately chiselled features accentuated by the dim lighting. He loved every single and small detail about Tom and Tom as a whole, of course. For hours he could just stand or sit somewhere and watch Tom talk or eat or drink and actually it didn’t matter what Tom did, as long as Chris could just sit there and look at him.

“I don’t want to be livid, Chris…”

“You’re not livid. You’re angry. And you have every right to be so.” Gently, as if he could break him, Chris placed his hands on Tom’s shoulders and turned him around, grabbed hold of his chin and made eye contact with him.

“It’s just… If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to but at least you should have the guts to tell me. And don’t cowardly hide behind attempts of distracting me. Besides…I didn’t even know you hate Christmas markets that much. I could have paid attention to that.”

“Yes, Tom, I don’t like going to Christmas markets that much, but I promised you because I wanted to do something that makes you smile that mesmerizing smile of yours ‘cause you’re beautiful when you’re laughing and I love the way your cheeks form small dimples just slightly and-“

“It’s okay, I got it, Chris. Now breathe. Jesus Christ.”

A cheeky grin spread over his face as he followed Tom to the cupboard in the hall. He couldn’t deny that he was absolutely fond of bantering Tom, even though he made it up to him as soon as he realised he had fucked up too pretty damn.

“I can literally feel your smirk, Chris.”

Of course he could. When it came to things like that Tom was really sensible for every change in emotion, without even looking at a person. His own jacket was being thrown at him before he got the chance to counterattack or give Tom a backtalk (for his own good: he hadn’t even tried doing that).

Delicate small snowflakes fell and glistened softly in the lights of the street lamps. The white crystals got caught in Tom’s hair and covered the road with a soft layer.

“See? I told you we had snow in London.” A tiny cloud of frozen breath shaped itself in front of his mouth as he raised his voice to speak. “And now hurry up. I remember you mentioning something about buying new Christmas decorations.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wish you all a merry Christmas and happy holidays <3


End file.
